Crashing Heaven Read online

  [And how did you find the experience of being me, Fist? Looking forward to having a body of your own now you’ve taken it for a test drive?]

  Fist didn’t answer.

  [ We’re going to write a letter to Andrea,] said Jack. [She’s going to take us to Harry. He’s been investigating all this too. We need to pool resources.]

  [ But Jack! You promised – after the Panther Czar, you’d let it all be.]

  [ I said I would if we got the data I needed. We didn’t. And we found out that they want to use you as a weapon after I’m gone. I’m not going to let that happen.]

  [ This isn’t fair! You’re going to get yourself attacked or shot or killed. And then where will I be?]

  [ Wherever I am, Fist, just like always. And believe me, I wish that was different too. Now stop panicking and remember what Akhmatov said. For the moment, we’re safe.]

  Jack returned to the hotel and tried to go onweave. Fist pretended there was a technical fault in the hotel weave-systems until Jack cuffed him and he opened them up.

  Jack knew now that Andrea’s avatar was nothing more than a static relic, cast off by the dead past. He summoned a screen and keyboard and, as he’d done so many times in the Callisto prison’s small comms room, began to type a mail. He wasn’t sure who might be monitoring his communications, so he wrote as a lover looking back to a happier past rather than an investigator seeking to unpick it.

  ‘Andrea – I’ve been back to where things began. I thought that would help me get things straight, but it’s more than I can deal with alone. I need help to understand. Please.’

  Jack always ended his mails to Andrea with ‘all my love’. Now, he wasn’t sure what to type. In the end, he sent the note unsigned. Then he waited. The reply came in a couple of hours. Her words hung before him, as for so long the only part of her he could see.

  ‘Jack. I told you I didn’t want you digging it all up again. If you just let it rest, it can’t hurt you. Back off.’

  Normally she too signed off with endearments. There was nothing this time. Jack replied almost instantly.

  ‘I can’t step away from it now, Andrea. I need resolution. And it can’t hurt me, I know that for sure. I’ll tell you why when I see you. I’ve started looking ahead, too. I want to make sure Fist is looked after once I’m gone.’

  Fist was reading over Jack’s shoulder. He snorted as Jack typed that last sentence.

  [ I don’t need looking after, Jack. I just need you to walk away from all this. Like you promised.]

  [ We don’t have any choice. They want to control you. They’ll come for you once you’ve taken over, be sure of it.]

  [And I’ll knock ’em down like ninepins!]

  [Like you put the zap on the Panther Czar?]

  [ Fuck you.]

  Fist was silent as Jack typed the rest of the note.

  ‘Please, Andrea, we’ve got to talk. All of us need to talk.’

  He couldn’t mention Harry, but he knew that Andrea would understand that ‘all of us’ included him. And now Jack was at the end of the note, facing the sign off again. Writing as a lover had changed his sense of the situation. It was more than a moral or a practical problem. It was an emotional one too. Jack felt abandoned before a great darkness. He found in himself a deep need to lighten the pain by sharing it.

  ‘You helped me see my life clearly when I first met you in Homelands. You helped me face up to the truth on Phobos, too, when I found out how little time I had left. Please help me one last time, before the end.

  With my love,

  Jack’

  This time, she agreed to see him.

  That night she was playing a club in Prayer Heights. It was a little more upmarket than Ushi’s. Jack had to make a discreet personal payment to the door staff to get in. The audience was more engaged. There was quiet applause as Andrea came onstage, a noticeable hush as she started to sing. Her voice rang out across the room as clearly as before. She played a surprisingly conservative set, including only the cover versions that had first made her name. Jack did his best to enjoy them, but they lacked the depth and power of her later, more personal work. The audience seemed happy enough, applauding enthusiastically as each song reached its entirely predictable end.

  She’d told Jack to come backstage once she’d finished. There was another anonymous corridor and another dressing-room door. Jagged music filtered through it. Jack thought he recognised Andrea’s voice, but it had been heavily treated. It was singing over a spoken word accompaniment, hustled along by soft beats, skipping apparently at random from one song to another. Jack knocked on the door and waited. There was no response. The hushed, discordant music continued. He knocked again, just as it began to fade out. Andrea said, ‘Come,’ and Jack stepped in.

  ‘Interesting tunes,’ he said.

  ‘Jack,’ she almost shouted from within her cowl, ‘what the hell are you playing at? I told you not to get involved. I don’t need a knight in shining armour. It’s bad for you and it’s worse for us.’

  Jack hadn’t been expecting such an onslaught. Fist chuckled. [Ooo, this is going to be fun,] he said happily. [Maybe there won’t be any more investigating after all. Popcorn!]

  ‘I’m sorry, Andrea. I thought—’

  ‘No Jack, you didn’t think. You just went straight in, digging over dangerous ground. What did you tell Akhmatov or InSec? I’ve been so careful to let people think I really did overdose. And nobody can know Harry’s come back.’

  ‘Andrea, I’m not stupid. As far as they’re both concerned, I’m a Pantheon hater who broke into the Panther Czar to find out which god’s corrupt. It’s nothing to do with you two.’

  ‘Except Harry wanted to find out exactly the same thing. That’s why he reopened the Penderville case and that’s what got us killed. It’s got everything to do with us. For gods’ sake, Jack. You’ve put us both at risk. You’re in danger too.’

  ‘No we’re not. The bad guys have moved beyond that. For them it’s all about Fist. They want him unharmed. I can’t be touched either.’

  [ Not mentioning the panthers, then?]

  Remembered pain snarled in Jack, rubbing against his mind like fur, sticky with his own blood.

  ‘I’m going to sit down for a moment,’ he said.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Akhmatov set his panthers on me last night. But it wasn’t real, I’m fine.’

  ‘Clearly.’

  Fist giggled.

  ‘And you say they can’t touch you,’ said Andrea. ‘I’ve seen how these people operate. At first hand. It will get worse.’

  [Listen to her, Jack,] said Fist. [She knows.]

  ‘For now, this is as far as it’s going to go,’ said Jack. ‘Akhmatov was reined in. He didn’t even have me roughed up by a bent Docklands copper, I was taken straight to HQ. He won’t hurt me. Because they want Fist undamaged.’

  ‘So what? Let them have him.’

  ‘Fist is a weapon and they think they can control him. With Pantheon backing, they’ll be able to lift his cage.’

  ‘They’re not going to be stupid enough to attack the Totality. What else is he good for?’

  ‘What else?’ said Fist, spluttering into outraged existence. ‘What else?’

  ‘I’m sure he’ll explain,’ said Jack.

  Andrea peered at him, fascinated. ‘I’ve heard so much about you, Fist. It’s – interesting – to finally meet you.’

  That barely interrupted Fist’s rant. ‘If it wasn’t for this sodding cage, I could do quite a lot.’ He tried to look down his nose at Andrea, but even though he was standing on a table he was still shorter than her. ‘I’m a military grade systems infiltration unit. I may have been built on an accountant’ – he glared at Jack – ‘and I may look like some over-privileged chucklehead’ – his monocle shimmered in the light – ‘but believe me, I can break into anything I want. Not just the Totality. And when I look at how Station’s systems have been thrown together over the years – poof, so many
holes!’

  ‘He’s almost how I imagined him,’ Andrea told Jack. ‘Only a little more – extreme.’

  ‘I could hack into any of them,’ continued Fist, waving a hand airily. ‘From the crappiest corporate server all the way up to the weave itself. Weaveselves, too. Maybe even the Coffin Drives! Maybe even fetches like you. Live, on the fly, pretty much instantly.’

  ‘It must have been so difficult living with him,’ sighed Andrea.

  ‘You get used to it. After a while.’

  Fist finally registered that she and Jack were only barely listening to him. ‘Excuse me?’ he said. ‘I believe I’m talking? Gods, being ignored by meatsacks is bad enough. I thought I’d at least get some respect from another digital intelligence.’

  Andrea seemed to be about to snap back at him, but she held herself back. Then she replied: ‘I’m sorry. That is a good point. I should have listened properly.’

  ‘Well,’ said Fist, taken by surprise. ‘Yes. An apology. Good.’

  ‘So, you said you can break into just about any system on Station?’ continued Andrea. ‘That’s pretty impressive. But some of them are very well guarded. The gods are great believers in security.’

  ‘No reason not to believe him,’ Jack replied. ‘He might not move as fast as some—’

  ‘Oi!’ said Fist.

  ‘—but he goes far deeper.’

  ‘That’s more like it.’

  ‘Shit,’ whispered Andrea. ‘You could be very dangerous indeed.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Fist joyfully. ‘Nice to be appreciated!’ He clapped, his hands sounding like wooden dominoes tumbling on to a table top.

  Andrea bowed her head and reached a hand inside her cowl, rubbing what remained of her temple. Jack wondered if her true face would fall into the light, but it remained hidden. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘We can’t let them get hold of him.’

  ‘I don’t see why not,’ said Fist. ‘I’m going to need a job once Jack’s gone. And this sounds like fun! It’s what I was built for, after all.’

  ‘No, Fist,’ said Jack. ‘These are bad people, and they’ll make you do bad things.’

  ‘You and your bloody conscience. Won’t be a problem for much longer!’

  Andrea cut in. ‘Remember who you’re with, Fist. You might not miss Jack when he’s gone, but I will.’ Jack shot her a grateful look. ‘I’ll take you both to Harry,’ she continued. ‘He’s spent a lot of time digging into the Penderville case. I’m sure he’ll help you find a new way forward.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Jack.

  ‘For fuck’s sake,’ muttered Fist.

  Andrea stood up. ‘Follow me back to our house.’

  ‘You’ve got a house? And you can walk the streets?’

  ‘It’s an aunt’s place. She works the orbital chainships, she’s only there a couple of nights a month. Because it’s a family site I can manifest fully. We’ve made some changes so it’s safe for Harry too. And I can walk on any street I want. Like I said, Harry helped me tweak myself. I’m not your average fetch.’ There was a moment of silence. Andrea tilted her head forward. ‘And you should be careful. Did I ever tell you about Harry’s first year at senior school?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘The older boys used to take money off the little ones. So he organised them. Their whole year fought back together, kicked the crap out of the sixteen- and seventeen-year-olds.’

  ‘Keeping the peace.’

  Andrea laughed. ‘Kind of,’ she said. ‘He started taking money off the local shops. To keep them unharassed. Paid some of the cash to the older boys. Got them working for him too.’

  ‘Playing all the angles.’

  ‘He still does. He puts himself first. Watch him, Jack.’

  Fist cut in. [Sounds like a fucking psychopath to me.]

  Jack ignored him. ‘That’s not the sort of thing I’d expect to hear from someone’s wife,’ he told Andrea.

  ‘Harry and I help each other out,’ she replied, ‘but you should know we’re not a couple any more.’

  For a moment something in Jack thrilled. Then he remembered that the Andrea he’d known was dead. He covered his confusion by standing up and turning away, reaching for his coat.

  ‘I’ll come out with you.’

  ‘No. I don’t want you walking with me.’

  ‘For safety?’

  ‘In part. But also – this.’ She indicated her cowl. ‘Entertainment venues have a special licence. People don’t always like being reminded what they’re listening to. So, they hide the bone. Outside, there’s nothing like that. It shows.’

  ‘But – I don’t mind.’

  ‘I do, Jack. You’ll walk in the street behind me. You’ll stay back all the way. You can see me when we’re back home and I’m wearing my true face again.’

  ‘I can look away.’

  ‘Wait two minutes, then follow me. I’ve flicked my permissions so you can see me outside. I’ll wait at the head of the street, then I’ll start walking. I won’t look back. If you do try and catch up, I’ll let myself fall back into the Coffin Drives. I’ll make sure Harry finds you, but you won’t be seeing me ever again.’

  Chapter 14

  The late evening street was half-empty. Dim spinelight painted grey shadows across the road. Andrea was at the end of the street, facing away from Jack. She no longer wore a cowl. Her skull was moon-white in the darkness, seeming to shine with its own light.

  [Let’s go see what she looks like!] said Fist. [ You won’t really miss her, Jack. 3! 2! 1! Go!]

  Jack stood by the club exit and waited. After thirty seconds or so, Andrea moved away round the corner. He followed.

  [ Run, Jack, run!]

  Prayer Heights gave way to Kanji District. The streets became busier. For a while they were on a main road. Throngs were enjoying a night out, chasing after entertainment that ranged from the virtuous to the vicious. Andrea moved ahead of Jack, a dissonant presence in the festive crowds. Jack remembered how she’d dragged him out to explore Docklands. She took a hatchet to what he now recognised as snobbery, forcing him to find ways of enjoying his birthplace again.

  He wondered if their favourite bar, the Vista Club, was still open. It had always been a specialised taste. It was set deep in the meteor gash that gave the Wound its name, showing views of the distant, broken Earth. They’d spent some great nights in there together.

  Jack had spent hours alone there too, watching storms tear at the dead lands below, mulling over the past and the future. His thoughts had often drifted to the war machines that still ravaged Earth. Sometimes there was a sharp burst of light beneath the clouds – some war-machine battle reaching a climax that resolved nothing. Sometimes the light would be higher up, nearly in space – one of the Rose’s satellites neutralising an attempt to escape Earth’s gravity well. East would soon trumpet her success. Most of the bar would applaud, then turn back to drinks and quiet conversations.

  Jack’s thoughts drifted away from the dead Earth towards other, subtler struggles. It was easier than he’d thought to be walking towards Harry. The affair ended because Andrea had rejected Jack. That helped Jack feel he’d not at last taken anything of any real significance from Harry. Guilt settled in him, almost falling away entirely. Then Jack thought of Andrea’s passing. It struck him that he’d barely mourned her. He wondered if, with that realisation, grief would come. But there was nothing. Jack looked ahead to the woman he was following. Through her fetch, Andrea was such a vivid presence in his life. It was impossible to feel any real sense of loss.

  The streets became quieter. Jack should have been able to relax a bit, but he found that he was still tense. In Kanji District, the buildings were carved from asteroid shards, creating narrow passages edged by sharp rock fragments. Years ago, Jack had found these buildings comfortingly substantial, the streets snugly enclosed. Now their high dark walls seemed oppressive. Each shard was pierced with silent windows. To Jack they all seemed empty, but some of the street-level ones must
be bright with music and movement, catching at the eyes of the woven. Small crowds gathered round them, staring into darkness.

  [ If I was uncaged,] remarked Fist, [ I’d be able to make those windows show them whatever I wanted. I wonder how many people I could make scream? Or vomit?] Jack ignored him. Fist chattered on nonetheless. [ This cage, Jack. I hate it! Held back like this. It’s like working for you, only worse. At least we wiped a few minds before you trapped us in that prison.] He was silent for a bit, then, [So many people at that window! It’s got to be shagging, that’s the only thing that draws a crowd like that. I’d crack the shop front style sheet and replace them with – I don’t know – dead bodies? Two corpses fucking. Mind you, they’d probably lap it up. Never underestimate the masses, old boy. Oh, I forgot. We’re off to visit a dead man ourselves, aren’t we? The social whirl, Jack, the social whirl …]

  The Kanji shards receded. At last Jack found himself in a quiet backstreet of compact multi-storey housing units. They were built from rectangular oil tanks, piled up seemingly at random. A light breeze forced resonance on them, creating a strange, low moaning sound. One of the units had been painted with bright, geometric designs. Andrea stopped at it and pressed her hand against the door. Jack stopped too, wary of getting too close. He could just see small squares flashing beneath her fingers. The tiny lightshow ended and Andrea vanished. [Lost her again!] giggled Fist.

  Jack walked towards the house. The door opened, revealing darkness. And then the dead came out to meet him. Soft light shimmered in the shadows of the doorway. It flashed and sparkled and slowly began to coalesce into something coherent. Jack imagined drives somewhere humming with activity, sifting through a lifetime’s worth of carefully managed photographs, family films, CCTV footage; picking out just the right self to display. A pair of shoes appeared, beautifully polished, and then the rolled up bottoms of two trouser legs. He recognised the shoes – handmade to a strictly limited design, stitched together from pseudo-cowhide grown in one of the farm stations hanging in close orbit to Station. Harry once boasted that the five year lease on them had cost him six months’ salary. ‘Take that to Homelands and show it to your posh friends,’ he’d said. ‘Even they’d have to admit – quality.’